


Couch convos

by Knife_Consumer



Series: Found family au 🐌🐌 [2]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Gir shows up for like one milisecond hhhhh, not funny. Cried, zim needs love he is not ok mentally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28624911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knife_Consumer/pseuds/Knife_Consumer
Summary: It's movie night at the Membrane household, and Zim isn't feeling too well.
Series: Found family au 🐌🐌 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106297
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	Couch convos

Zim was sitting on the couch, The Membrane siblings huddled up against their dad not too far away from him. Dib had fallen asleep some time ago, annoying snores breaking through the otherwise calm atmosphere, and Gaz was clicking the buttons on her hand-held with a bit more vigor than usual.  
And the dad-thing, he was watching a movie. One that they'd picked out as a group earlier that night and intended to sit through together, but now the professor was the only one paying the slightest bit of attention.

What was it called again... Wall-E? Zim looked up from picking at his uniform to take a quick glance at the screen. The cube-shaped, rusty robot on the television was looking at a little box t.v., watching an old film that was playing. Two humans held hands, and Wall-E was -for some reason that was beyond Zim- enthralled by it. Imitating the action by itself.

Gross.

Zim did not crave for such affections. Invaders did not need something so trivial as that.  
And yet...  
Looking over at the human family next to him... Peeking under the coffee table where Gir was squeezing his favorite piggy in his sleep...

Zim couldn't help but feel isolated. His side of the couch was cold and empty. His small frame taking up barely any room. A popcorn bowl was all that was separating him from the warmth and comfort not even five feet away.

He felt... just like how he felt in academy. 

Back when he was younger, Zim was always alone. Red and Purple had eachother, practically attached at the hip; They made a point to express how much they absolutely hated him, how he was so short and inferior every chance they got.  
And Skoodge. Skoodge was so, so nice to Zim. But time after time, Zim pushed him away.  
The one Irken who'd ever been friendly with him, who had enjoyed his company, had become too afraid to talk to him. Too afraid of being yelled at to even approach the other.

And so he left.

About a week or so after the Florpus incident, Skoodge announced that he was returning to the empire.  
He'd never said why, but Zim knew.  
It was his fault.  
Zim's fault that Skoodge left.

He knew he was pushing himself into another slump, but didn't care enough anymore to do anything about it. He wouldn't mind becoming a sad pile of cheese again. Anything was better than sitting here and thinking about all of the things he did wrong. He just...

Didn't want to think.

Reaching for the popcorn, Zim grumbled and grabbed a nearby blanket he took from upstairs. Blankly staring at the t.v., he started mindlessly shoveling the contents of the bowl into his mouth.  
Someone cleared their throat beside him, catching his attention.

It was the professor. It was hard to read the other's expression, as he still had that stupid labcoat on. But Zim was able to notice how his brows were slightly furrowed.

Did he want some popcorn?

Zim huffed and shoved the bowl in his direction, before retreating into the folds of the battered, smelly quilt he'd stolen from Dib.  
"Zim..."

Irk, what did he want now? Zim had nothing else to give.  
"Mrrgh." Peaking out of his sad little cocoon, he stared at the professor, expecting him to elaborate on what he wanted.

"You don't... seem too well."  
He still wasn't used to an alien living in the house. Mainly, he had a difficult time coming to terms with the fact that everything his son had said in the past about Zim was true, and that the Florpus wasn't a dream or mass hallucination.

"Zim is... Zim is fine."  
He wasn't fine.

Thankfully, the other either didn't notice how he'd faltered, or just didn't care, as the conversation died. 

Not having anything to stuff in his mouth was boring, and it left him alone with his thoughts. Now that he thought about it... was the the Dad-creature even eating any of what Zim had gave him?  
A quick look told him that no, he was not. Instead, he was still staring at Zim.

"WHAT do you WANT." He snarled, antennae perking up in a futile attempt to make himself look bigger than he was.

"Oh! Nothing, I'm fine, just... thinking."

"Hrmph." Zim shivered, the fan overhead spinning at the fastest setting. Stupid humans and their dumb warm blood. Irkens were cold blooded, not to the point where they needed sunlight, no, their Pak's got rid of that need. But that didn't stop him from getting chilly at any temperatures below 70° degrees fahrenheit. 

Horrible, annoying humans. Why couldn't they just be normal and be cold blooded like everyone else? As far as Zim knew, they were the only race out there that was this advanced and still had a warm body temperature. Then again, This... Urth-thing was anything but normal.

"Zim-"

"WHAT?!?"  
The professor didn't even flinch at Zim's outburst. And Gaz had the audacity to sush him. How dare they not be afraid!

"...Are you sure you're alright? You look cold." Zim shuddered a bit and wrapped himself up tighter.

"Dad, you'd better not invite him over here, you know Dib's gonna freak."

"Yes, well..."

"Zim is NOT cold. And I do NOT need your DISGUSTING body heat."  
That was a lie. He was freezing.

The professor sighed. Sometimes he had to remind himself that Zim was an adult by Irken standards, and well over a hundred years old. The little thing was as stubborn and bratty as a toddler.

Gaz looked up at her father, seeing that he was still contemplating something. She whispered: "Dad? I swear, if you let Zim over here, I'm going to wake up Dib and ask him about mothman."  
The professor hesitated, remembering the last time Dib had gone on a tangent about the supernatural.

It was nice that his son had intrests, and Membrane was doing his best to be more open-minded and listen to what he had to say.  
And it really was intresting for the first thirty minutes or so! But then he went on and on and on. Having always been shut down in the past, this was a new opportunity. By the time he was done info-dumping it had been near an hour.

"Uh... well... hmm."

"So, you're not dragging him over here, right?"

"No, I am."

"Ugh, whatever. Night dad, I'm going to brush my teeth." Ok, good. The awakening of Dib was only an empty threat.  
Gaz slid off of her father's lap and padded her way across the room and up the stairs.

"Goodnight! Wash your face too!"

She grumbled something Zim couldn't quite catch, probably along the lines of telling her dad to shut up.

Then, the Dib-worm shifted a bit in his sleep. 

Please, please don't wake up...

Zim didn't feel like yelling back and forth with him, even though it was fun. Not tonight. Too busy being sad.  
And even though all he wanted to do was mope, the professor just... wouldn't stop staring at him.

"Your stares are distracting, Science-drone. I demand for you to stop..."  
He dragged out the last sentence, trying his best to put his all into making it low and intimidating. It only sounded whiny and pathetic.  
It could be in part that he was shivering. That could be part of it, yes. Not just the fact that he was a broken, useless little thing. A failure to the empire.  
Definantly not that.

"Zim, would you like to come over here? You're shivering an awful lot-"

"NO. You insolent hair-beast! Zim is perfectly fine!"

"You're not."

Zim looked to the floor, and then to the ceiling, and then at the wall.  
He didn't sound angry. Not annoyed or impatient.  
It was just a flat statement.  
So why, exactly, did Zim dig so deep into it?  
What made him look for a hidden meaning, or an unspoken rule that wasn't even there to begin with?

Finally, he looked over to the professor. Expression still unknown, he reached a hand out to Zim. He would never figure out what compelled him to do so, but Zim moved closer.

Gently, the little alien was scooped up and made comfortable against the soft fabrics of the others coat--- 

Wait, what was that?

His antenna perked up as the scientist swaddled him in Dibs quilt. 

Click, click, click.

There it was again!  
A rhythmic ticking, one that seemed so calm, so soothing, but from where?  
Without realizing, his head had tilted towards the source, before bumping into something rubbery. 

A glove! 

Wait, no no. Gloves don't tick. 

So, under it then?

Zim grabbed at the professor's arm, not the least bit suprised and how hard it felt.  
Zim remembered now, his robot army had been shot down to ruin by the lasers the dad-thing fired off.  
"Zim? Is something else wrong?"  
He didn't answer, to preoccupied pulling off the glove and tossing it to the side.

A robot arm. That's where the clicking was from.  
Each time one of the joints were moved, it would make the most beautiful sounds Zim had ever heard. Machinery was always something he loved, that was no secret.  
But why, was it this craft in particular that piqued his intrest? That seemed so familiar?

What was it? Zim thought and thought, slumping back down into the quilt and tucking one of his clawed hands under his chin while the professor silently watched.

Why did he feel so safe, so happy all of the sudden? Wasn't he supposed to be moping right now? Zim lightly punched the side of his head, wracking his scattered brain for any reason that this was so nostalgic to him.

What what what...

Oh.

It was dark, wasn't it?  
A loud ping, something he'd barely registered. Was he awake? Was he even alive?

And then.  
Clicking.  
Ticking.  
The medolic whirrs of machinery operating.  
The tink of metal touching glass.

A loud crack as he fell to the floor. Zapped to life and given a brain.

Someone had welcomed him.  
It was... an arm.  
It cracked open his tube?  
Did it?  
Yes, yes that was right.

A parent...

So that was it.

He found himself hugging Membrane's arm, much like he had done when he was not even a minute old. Was this what a parent was like? Something Dib had teased him for not having before. And something he'd thought that he had.

But this... was different.

The robot in the smeetery did not care. It didn't even know what Zim looked like. Just faintly aware that there was something infront of it.

But this was alive. The professor cared... did he? He wasn't sure. But, if he was really bothered by this, he could have easily pushed Zim away by now.

Zim knew that this was behavior that would categorize him as defective. But he didn't care, not for now, at least.  
For the first time in ages he felt happy. 

Safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Hhh this was very nice to write. Just felt the need to make it kind of sad for literally no reason at all though.


End file.
